A Virtuous Heart
by Sheila Waters
Summary: This picks up after the fade to black...


**A VIRTUOUS HEART**

A knight is sworn to valour; his heart knows only virtue; his blade defends the helpless; his might upholds the weak; his word speaks only truth; his wrath undoes the wicked. 

***** 

It was over. An eerie silence hung over the castle courtyard; no one wanting to be the first to leave lest it bring down some curse. The first to break that silence was Bowen. He viewed the rag-tag army who had followed him to victory - a victory so dearly bought for he had lost one of the truest friends he had ever had in his life; Draco. Draco the last of the dragons. Draco who had died at his hands.   
"Go home," he addressed the band of peasants clustered around him. "Go and tell your children how you defeated tyranny and witnessed the passing of the last dragon!"   
Hewe stepped forward; his admiration for this knight exuding from every fibre. "And where will you go, Bowen?"   
Glancing to where Kara stood, Bowen replied: "I don't know."   
Hewe's remaining eye fell upon the daughter of his one-time friend. "I see." He'd deduced the knight's regard for the headstrong young woman who, even at that moment was glaring, stone-faced, back at Bowen. "And what of you, Priest?" as Gilbert of Glockenspur drew closer to the peasant. "What will you do?"   
Still stunned by recent events; including his own abortive attempt to kill Einon, Gilbert sought guidance from Bowen. "I go where Bowen goes."   
"Oh will you?!" retorted the knight with a jolly air. "What about you, Kara?" and he swung around deliberately, startling the young woman at his elbow.   
Blushing under his intent gaze, she stammered her response. "I... I'll go home with... with Hewe of course."   
"Tired of my company are you, lass?" His words - and the smile that accompanied them - were as deliberate as his manoeuvre had been. He suspected that Kara did have certain feelings for him but her words to him before the battle still echoed in his head.   
"No," she admitted shyly, aware of two and a half pairs of eyes now focused upon her. "But there's nothing else for me now."   
Bowen caught her by one elbow, leaned closer and whispered: "I need to speak to you - alone; you know what about."   
Her amber eyes flickered across his deep blue ones. Gone was the merriment of a few moments before, she read a plea in them. "Alright." That one word brought back his smile and she understood his desire for privacy. She allowed him to lead her into the castle keep where it was at least warm. In the hall, he halted and spun her to face him.   
"Do you wish me to return this?" and he fingered the strip of leather still tied around his left, upper arm. "I've won your victory; is that all you wanted of me?"   
"Don't do this," she pleaded, casting down her eyes. His fingers bit into both her arms and he shook her. She gasped from the force of it.   
"Do what?! You know my heart, Kara; tell me yours!" He forced her to look at him.   
She tried to break free; the more she struggled, the tighter grew his grip. Her eyes travelled the room - the room where she'd been taken prisoner... "Stop this!" she demanded, a sharp edge to her voice. "Will you force me too?!"   
Angered, Bowen let her go. She staggered away from him. "Your tongue is sharp, Kara and it speaks lies." He turned his back on her. "I love you, why won't you accept that?"   
"What is love?"   
He swung around; his hair flew out about his shoulders and the ends of the leather strip slapped his sleeve. Frowning, he answered: "It separates men from animals. It's given for no reward - freely."   
"It carries expectations," she said coldly.   
"Say what you mean," striding towards her as he spoke.   
"You... you... want me... in your bed."   
His face softened. "Is that what this is about? You confuse what Einon did with honest loving."   
"There speaks the man!"   
"No; not just a man." He drew closer. "Speak to any woman in your village; ask them of the reality if you will not believe me." Again, his hands fell onto her arms. "Tell me that you do not love me. Tell me that you do not thrill at my touch and I swear I will ride away and you'll never see me again."   
"That's not fair. I do care for you; I enjoy your company and I - " she got no further for Bowen had seized her and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Her first instinct was to fight him, but another feeling took her over and she began to relax in his grip. As her body slackened, his hold on her tightened until she was as close to him as it was possible to be. Her arms found their way around his neck; her fingers the silkiness of his hair under her hands. She felt his breath on her face; his muscles hard against her body and her head swam.   
There was a thrill in being near to him; of having him touch her. His first touch had sent a similar shiver through her when he'd demonstrated how she should wield an axe in defence. This was different though; something else coursed through her and her dim wits awoke sufficiently to name the sensation - desire. In naming it, another thought banished it and she suddenly pushed out of Bowen's arms.   
He stared at her. "What have I done now to earn such a grim expression from you?" for the scowl she now levelled at him confused him.   
"Presumed too much."   
"Presumed what?"   
She floundered; backed away and picked nervously at the cord about her waist. "You expect to wipe it all away so easily?"   
"No, love," and he spoke as gently as he turned her to face him; seeing the surprise in her eyes at the endearment. "But I would lead you away from the memory of it. Einon's dead; bury that too, Kara for your own sake not just mine."   
Fighting back tears, she allowed him one small measure of comfort. "I care for you, Bowen - here," and she touched her chest. "Yes, there was a... thrill in your kiss," she returned the smile her words had brought to his face, "but that's not enough to return your love in the way you wish."   
"It's a beginning." Boldly, he took hold of her again. "Help me to lead these people to independence; to teach them how to manage the crops for their own reward. Stand beside me in peace, Kara, just as you did in battle."   
"Work with you?"   
"Yes. Come to know me, not just the broken-down knight you once called me."   
She hung her head. "Those were angry words, Bowen; you proved your worth."   
"Only in battle, lass. This, I fear is going to be a harder battle to win - for both of us."   
His eyes were gentle as she looked into them. Her father had often given her such a kindly glance. Nervously, her fingers caught the strip of leather around Bowen's arm. "My father would have been honoured to see you wear this."   
Bowen drew her closer. "The honour is mine, Kara."   
"Can you wait for me?"   
"As long as you do not banish me from your sight. Aye; I can wait," and his smile told her that he would. 

********** 

The winter had set in; the ground was frozen solid but there was still work to be done. Kara's village buzzed with the exuberance that only freedom brings. Food stocks once stored in Brok's fortress were now piled high in village barns. No needed to fear hunger this year. The stream was being cleared of stones to allow fish to return to their natural habitat instead of being siphoned off into a man-made pond. Helping to move the stones was Kara.   
She stood, ankle-deep in icy water, bending to lift one large rock.   
"Don't!" warned Bowen from the opposite bank. "That one's too heavy for you to move!" and he sloshed across to join her.   
"I can manage." But the rock evaded her grip, cutting a slice into the palm of her hand instead. Blood stained the clear waters and Bowen shoved her onto dry land.   
"Let me see!" grasping her hand and trying to prise open her fingers.   
"It just stings."   
"Really?! That's deep," he announced.   
Kara looked down to see blood oozing from a neat, narrow gash along her left palm. "I'll bind it, it'll be alright."   
"Let me," Bowen insisted. He led her away from the work site towards the cluster of huts, holding onto the wrist and zig-zagging his gaze from the wound to Kara's face. Then he spotted the priest. "Brother Gilbert!" he hailed, "we have need of you!"   
Gibert hurried to meet the pair, reaching them as Kara sagged into Bowen. "What's she done?" he asked the knight then whistled through his teeth as Bowen showed him.   
Kara staggered; Bowen scooped her up in his arms, carrying her into her own hut. Ignoring her protests, he sat her on the edge of her narrow bed. "Don't argue!" he told her. "Let Gilbert see it."   
"We must stop the bleeding," the priest decided. "I'll be back," and he scurried outside.   
She looked pale. Bowen felt her cheeks; they were cold. Then he saw her saturated shoes and knelt to remove them. "You're freezing!" he remarked, pulling a rough blanket to drape over her legs. Leaving her a moment, he poked the fire in the central hearth with metal tongs until it roared into life so that even he could feel its heat. "Come and sit down here," he ordered her; but there was no response. Snapping his head around, he bolted to his feet. "Kara!" he shouted, for she'd collapsed into an ungainly heap on the bed and a pool of blood now stained the earthen floor.   
"Oh, dear Lord," invoked Gilbert, returning at that moment to see Bowen on his knees trying to waken Kara. He dropped a satchel onto the floor and scuttled over to join the knight. "This doesn't look good," he feared.   
"Then do something!" Bowen's tone was sharp out of his own concern, not a slur on the priest's abilities. Sighing, he apologised to the now-alarmed cleric. "I'm sorry, Brother Gilbert, it's just... "   
"I know, my son," and he laid a sympathetic hand on Bowen's sleeve. "You love her."   
"How would you know?" Bowen asked in wide-eyed curiosity.   
"I'm a priest; I'm not blind - or stupid," as he elbowed Bowen out of the way. "First," turning his attention to the more urgent matter, "we must close this wound."   
"Draco would have... " began Bowen. He caught Gilbert's understanding eye.   
"This is something I can do," assured Gilbert. "Do you have the courage to help me?"   
"Courage? Why, what are you going to do?"   
Averting his eyes from the intensity of Bowen's gaze, the priest drew a piece of iron from his satchel and held it up. "Seal it," he said simply. "It's too deep for anything else."   
"Y-you... can't," stuttered the knight, catching onto his companion's intent.   
Ignoring the understandable reaction, Gilbert pushed one end of the iron poker into the glowing embers of the fire. Then he sat on the bed and laid Kara's hand in his lap. Out of the satchel he withdrew cloth that he proceeded to dab on the wound. "Clean water," he commanded.   
Wordlessly, Bowen found a bowl and poured water into it; handing it back to Gilbert who soaked the bloody rag, only to repeat the process. Still the cut oozed blood.   
"Here," Gilbert ordered, getting up and thrusting Kara's hand at Bowen. "Hold her wrist tightly. And be ready to hold her down if she wakes."   
"She won't."   
"They often do," the priest informed him, returning with the poker; wrapped safely in the cloth so he didn't get burned. He dipped the red-hot tip into the water jug; a sizzling sound filled the air and steam surrounded the metal rod. "Ready?" he asked.   
Bowen nodded.   
As the rod approached Kara's hand, Bowen looked away and into her face. He prayed she wouldn't wake. He felt the heat against his own hands clamped around her wrist that now lay across his lap; heard the sizzle as the poker met flesh then smelled singed skin. Kara's body jolted and her eyelids flew open, her mouth opened to scream and Bowen reacted the only way he could think of - he landed a punch to her jaw and sent her back to merciful oblivion.   
"Well done, Bowen," Gilbert praised.   
The knight regarded the priest. "Have you done with your torture?" his quavering voice demanded to know.   
"Yes," and he dropped the iron rod. "I'll cover the wound with this ointment."   
Bowen seized Gilbert's hand. "What's in it?"   
"Only archangel, century and dock; all soothing plants, Bowen. To ease the pain."   
"Alright," and he let go. Still seated beside Kara, Bowen tenderly brushed hair from her face with one finger whilst his other hand still cradled hers in his lap. He felt Gilbert lift the hand from his thigh. Peering up, he asked softly: "Will she mend?"   
"Of course," came the confident response. "It was a clean cut; no infection has set in. I've healed worse," and he beamed at Bowen.   
Somehow the reassurance did not communicate to the knight. Bowen tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat without success. He watched the priest expertly dress the wound - now covered in a layer of an oddly-coloured paste - and prayed that no lasting damage had been done. 

********** 

Darkness had halted work for the day and found Bowen back in Kara's hut; this time, Hewe stood with him.   
"She's always been strong, Bowen. Why, I remember when she fell from the loft of a burning hut during the rebel... " He stopped suddenly, noticing a wince twitch Bowen's lips. His voice lowered. "That was the day I first saw you, Bowen."   
"I know," Bowen's voice grated, and his breath showed clear as morning mist in the chill atmosphere. "Why is it so cold in here?" he complained tetchily.   
"There's plenty of fuel," Hewe said, pointing to the door. "Manure bricks; out there."   
Turning up his nose, Bowen nevertheless went to fetch some in. They were dry though and relatively odourless - for that, he was grateful. He threw a couple onto the fire and hastily stood back as they crackled, sending out a shower of sparks. Smacking them off his tunic, he spoke again to Hewe. "Has Kara spoken to... has your wife instructed her?"   
Hewe grinned at Bowen's embarrassment. "She knew all that before she had need!" aiming a slap to the knight's shoulder. "We are farmers!" he added with a wink.   
"And Einon worse than any animal," Bowen shot at the peasant.   
The grin disappeared. "Einon? You mean he - ?"   
" - yes! You never knew?" he returned somewhat incredulously.   
"How could I? You were here when she tried to draw us into another rebellion."   
"Without knowing why?"   
"I thought it was to avenge Raigon - her father." He shook his head. "I understand her reluctance to commit to you now." Eyeing Bowen, he dared a question. "What are your intentions towards her?"   
Frowning in disbelief, he nevertheless answered. "I want to marry her. What did you think?"   
Hewe shrugged. It was common practice for noblemen - and knights - to claim village girls for their pleasures. His hopes that Bowen had more integrity; more respect for virtue and the Old Code he'd mentioned, now proved to be well founded. "Good."   
"I am a knight of the Old Code," recited Bowen, "I do not rape or pillage."   
"Good," the peasant repeated. "But what can my wife tell her that she doesn't already know?"   
"The difference between giving and taking - assuming she knows," Bowen threw at the man.   
"We may be peasants but we know how to treat women properly!" he defended.   
"Mm; you once offered Kara as dragon bait," Bowen goaded.   
"At your suggestion!" Hewe reminded him. "Now you profess to love her!"   
"If I didn't, would I be here discussing it?!" he snarled back.   
"I suppose not," Hewe allowed.   
"So will you ask your wife to tell her of the tenderness between men and women?" Bowen pleaded.   
"Aye, Bowen, I'll ask. Now, what of the girl?" his sole reason for being there.   
"She was sleeping when I left and she still is," answered Bowen wryly, "I don't like it," and he laid a hand on her forehead. "My God!" he intoned. "Hewe, she's in fever; feel!"   
Hewe did just that. "It needs to be broken. Stoke the fire, I'll get more blankets," and he shot out of the hut.   
Bowen didn't hesitate to obey the command and raked the fire into a roaring blaze. By the time Hewe returned, the temperature inside the small hut had risen dramatically. Dumping the blankets by the hearth, Hewe then issued his second order to the knight.   
"Bring Kara to the fire, lay her on these," and he made a bed of the spare blankets.   
Going to Kara's bed, Bowen gathered her up and carried her carefully to the hearth. He dropped to one knee and gently laid her on the new pile of rough covers. "She's cold now," he told Hewe.   
"That's why we need to sweat it out of her. My wife and I have sat with our girls to rid them of childish fevers, this is just a bit more potent," and he eyed Bowen meaningfully.   
"You mean: more dangerous."   
"Yes," breathed the peasant.   
Bowen smothered Kara's now-quivering body with the blankets from her own bed and sat on the floor beside her. His hands shook as he brushed hair from her cheek. "She was freezing in the river today; then the accident," he said aimlessly. "I should have been with her."   
"You were," Hewe comforted. "I heard you tell her to leave that rock, but she was always stubborn." He met Bowen's eyes across the fire.   
"I had noticed," he answered softly.   
Clearing his throat, Hewe made a suggestion. "You can add to the warmth."   
"How? It's like a furnace in here now."   
"With your own body."   
Bowen's eyes almost shot out of his skull. "What are you suggesting; that I get in there with her?!" pointing at the swathe of wool that swaddled Kara.   
"Yes."   
"And if she wakes up?" tilting his head at the implications of it all.   
"She'll know how much you care."   
"If she doesn't crack my skull first!"   
"She won't. It may be a long night, Bowen - they often are. Do you want me to stay?"   
"No, Hewe - thank you; go to your family, you need to rest. I trust you to rouse everyone at first light."   
"Be certain of it." He slapped the knight on the back as he left him to his lonely vigil.   
Bowen sat staring at the pale-faced woman beside him. Warm her with his body Hewe had said. Dangerous. But he loved her; how could he not do this one small thing. Resolutely, he removed his shoes, caked with mud as they were; next to go was the silver-buckled belt lest it harm her. Lifting the cumbersome blankets, he edged beneath them until he came to rest beside Kara's inert body. Facing her, he lifted her and cradled her against his chest before pulling the blankets back over the pair of them. Sighing, he lay down, praying for sleep - and Kara's recovery. 

********** 

Mercifully for him, sleep did come to Bowen. He awoke with pins and needles in his right arm, wondering where he was. The weight against his shoulder soon told him. Painfully, he extricated the numbed arm, flexed its muscles and studied the cause of the tingling sensation. Still Kara slept but at least she was warmer. Beads of sweat glistened on her nose and forehead; he wiped them away with his fingers and impulsively kissed her cheek. A tiny moan escaped her lips; he kissed them.   
"Oh, love; come back to me," he begged. "Life without you would be dull indeed. Brother Gilbert may be my conscience, but you are my heart." His vision blurred. Rising on one elbow, he gathered Kara into his arms, bent over her and reverently kissed her hair. A small movement against his midriff caused him to pull back. He thought he saw her eyelids flutter. Shaking her, he spoke her name more urgently. "Kara, can you hear me?" Her head lolled into the crook of his arm; then her eyes did open.   
They fought to focus on her surroundings. A hand smoothed her hair away from her face and neck; something black hovered before her. "Bowen?" she questioned. "Is that you?"   
"Aye, love," and he sat up with her. "Be easy, you're still not recovered."   
She put out one hand and gripped the front of his tunic; then her eyes took in her situation. "What are you doing in my bed?" she accused.   
"No bed, look - we're on the floor."   
"Together," and she pushed him away.   
"I'm still fully clothed," he defended. "See for yourself," and he shoved away the blankets. "I would never take advantage of you; this was Hewe's idea - to break the fever."   
"Fever?" as she struggled in a half-reclining position. Bowen's hands went out to steady her; she recoiled until she saw the hurt in his eyes. Then she remembered her hand. "Because of this?" raising it.   
"And the icy water. Please, Kara; you must keep warm," and he inched out of the blankets to cover her again, fussing like a mother hen to hide his disappointment at her suspicions. "Are you thirsty?" scrambling to his feet and searching for a cup.   
"Bowen," she called softly, "come back here - please."   
He turned and looked down at her. "Why? So you can smack my face more easily?"   
"No," and she held out her good hand to him. "Where are your shoes and belt?"   
"On your bed," and he pointed. "I didn't want mud in the bed, or my buckle to dig into you."   
"Why the floor?"   
"To be nearer the fire; to sweat out your fever."   
"You look feverish yourself, Bowen."   
"The fire," he excused.   
"Not just the fire I think," Kara observed, bringing a deeper flush to Bowen's cheeks.   
"I never denied my feelings for you," returning to stoop beside her.   
"No, you haven't." Her eyes searched his face for any hint that he misled her. "Is it because of me that you stay? Have you no family waiting for you?"   
"No," he answered gravely.   
"None? Mother; sister? Wife?" she dared question.   
"You ask questions of me now?" he countered. "You didn't think to ask when you needed my help."   
"I... I just thought you'd naturally abandoned everything when you broke from Einon."   
"Including a wife?" He shook his head; the light auburn tresses fanning his face. "No; I lost her even before then." Noting how surprised Kara was at such a confession, he elaborated. "She died birthing my son."   
"Y-your... son? And where is he?"   
"He followed her to the grave that winter."   
Casting down her eyes, Kara mumbled: "You have known pain."   
"Enough to know that it heals," and he touched a hand to his right shoulder.   
"Until something reminds you of it," she retorted.   
"Ooh," he mocked, "you parry well!"   
"You taught me how."   
He dropped to one knee and leaned closer, whispering tenderly: "I would teach you more."   
"There you go again! Turning your thoughts to your pleasures!" she said angrily.   
"Not just mine." His other knee hit the floor and he sat back on the heels of bare feet. The firelight flickered against his cheeks, emphasising the gold in his hair as it collared itself around his neck. "That's why I wanted you to speak to Hewe's wife."   
Kara tried to sit up; flinching when Bowen's hands shot out to find purchase on her arms. But he would not be shaken off. "Why?" she asked.   
"So that you might believe a woman's view of marriage."   
"Marriage?" she echoed.   
Bowen frowned. "Yes. Didn't you think I meant what I said?"   
She was suddenly ashamed. "Bowen, I'm sorry."   
His back straightened. "Shall I take you back to your own bed?"   
"Will you not accept my apology?" laying a hand on his sleeve.   
"Only if you accept my offer. Kara; don't let Einon's poison reach out from the grave to twist your heart. I know what it is to have your life ripped away from you, and I know how taking a wrong path can lead to destruction. Listen to me - please."   
"What am I listening to?" she insisted on knowing.   
"A man struggling to tell you that no other woman has turned his head since he buried his wife fifteen years ago. Then; I put all my energies into teaching Einon. I failed in that but not from the wants of trying. I won't fail in this no matter how long it takes."   
Kara thought she saw a hint of tears in Bowen's eyes but dismissed it as fancy. "What was her name?" she asked softly.   
"Moire." He spoke it as if it were a prayer.   
"And your son?"   
"Arthur; for the greatest knight who ever lived - and who restored my faith in the Old Code," he added reverently. Reaching out for her hands, he was grateful not to have her snatch them back. "Kara; you had courage enough to lash out in anger, do you have the courage to reach out in love?"   
"Eloquent words, Bowen; spoken from the heart - a virtuous heart and I was wrong to doubt that." She felt a lump swell in her throat to choke her; tears burned the backs of her eyes and she saw that he was up on his knees as if in prayer.   
"Trust me," he begged. "Marry me," clarifying the proposal he'd made before the battle.   
"I do trust you; it's myself I do not. What if my love isn't enough? It would be a betrayal. I would not want to disappoint you."   
He cupped her face. "No betrayal, love; and you could never disappoint me." Brushing her lips with the gentlest of kisses, he was heartened to feel her hands on his chest - but not to push him away. He risked an embrace. Her arms wrapped around his body. "Get your strength back," he urged her, "listen to Hewe's wife," and he giggled. "I'm certain she can be more... um... delicate on the subject!"   
"I will do as you ask."   
Her words - spoken into the unlaced opening of his tunic - sent a warm breeze against his chest. It created a reaction that fractured his voice. "You will not regret it, I swear."   
Only then did she realise that he had offered her marriage. Struggling out of his arms and fixing him with an incredulous stare, she said: "You would marry a peasant?"   
"I would marry a woman I love. How many times must I say it?!"   
"Marriage... I didn't really expect... didn't think you meant that... knights don't marry - "   
He stopped her ramblings with a kiss to leave her in no doubt that he meant it and - though it was difficult - kept his hands under control as proof. "Do you want to return to your bed?" he asked again.   
"I need something else first," she replied.   
"Ah yes; a drink," and he stood up.   
"No, Bowen; the opposite."   
Spinning around, he stubbed a toe against her leg; winced, blushed and attempted a coherent response. "Er... ah... I can't do that!" he exclaimed.   
"I think I can stand and take myself there." She pushed back the blankets.   
"Stop!" he commanded. "You can't go outside in this weather; it's still freezing out there."   
"Then bring me a bucket, put it in the corner and have done with it," she suggested. So he did. But he did help her to get to the makeshift latrine, retiring discreetly to the door until she called him back again; then he carried her to her bed and put her in it.   
"Do you want these other blankets too?" he asked, bending to retrieve them from the floor.   
"Thank you - yes." It amused her to see how he behaved. First, he draped one blanket around her shoulders; a second was used as a pillow, whilst the third he laid over her. She sensed his uncertainty and that warmed her heart and allowed it to wander off down the track she most feared. What would it be like to share his bed? To have him..?" She screwed up her eyes and banished the thought.   
"What's wrong? Are you in pain? Kara?!" he said more urgently, pinching her shoulder and startling her.   
"Nothing. I... I'm... Bowen, can you find Eadyth?" she requested shakily.   
He sighed. "Who's Eadyth?"   
"Hewe's wife."   
"Now?!"   
"Mm." She gulped, not daring to look him in the eye.   
"There is something wrong," he insisted. "Why won't you tell me?"   
"There's nothing to tell and I can't ask you... Please, Bowen."   
He sat on the bed and took her hands. "You can ask me anything, love - anything."   
"Not this I can't," she said in deadly earnest.   
"You need a woman's perspective, huh?!" and a merry twinkle sparkled in his blue eyes.   
"For the moment, yes." She sighed heavily. "Bowen?" and she pulled a hand free to touch his cheek.   
"What is it?" as he read fear in her amber eyes.   
"What if... if I'm carrying Einon's child?"   
Bowen pursed his lips. "Do you think you are?"   
"I don't know, that's one thing I want to ask Eadyth."   
He thought back to his first encounter with Kara. "Surely you'd know by now?" he calculated.   
"Not necessarily."   
"But; it's been more than two months since he... since I met you."   
"I know; but I'm not sure about certain things. My mother died when I was young; then my father was taken into the quarry."   
"Has your... ?" this was getting out of hand. "I'll find Eadyth," he said hurriedly, standing to push his feet into his shoes then bolted from the hut like an arrow from a bow. 

********** 

Bowen hung back in the bitter cold of a winter dawn. He'd found Hewe's wife; told her of Kara's misgivings and requested her to acquaint the girl with certain matters. Fortunately, Eadyth followed the knight's drift and entered the hut with a secret smile on her lips.   
When Hewe himself came up beside Bowen, the knight faced him. "What's the problem, Bowen?"   
Hugging his freezing body, Bowen explained the need for female tuition. "She knows nothing!" he complained. "I cannot believe it. Why didn't your wife prepare her for womanhood?"   
"What are you talking about?"   
"She doesn't know whether she carries a child or not."   
Hewe's eye grew large and his mouth dropped. "I didn't think you had got that far!"   
"Not mine you fool! Einon's!"   
"Einon?" Realising his error, Hewe apologised. "Eadyth will set her straight."   
"I hope so."   
"You look cold, Bowen; come and get some breakfast."   
Seemingly not hearing the invitation, he muttered: "I asked her to marry me. She didn't answer."   
Hewe laughed. "She will; she'd be a fool to turn you down!"   
Bowen glared intently at the peasant. "She's no fool, Hewe; but there's more to it than mere status." His gaze strayed back to Kara's hut as Eadyth emerged.   
"She wants to see you, Bowen," the woman said with a smile.   
Slapping him on the back, Hewe urged: "Go to her, Bowen!" 

********** 

Shivering, Bowen ducked back into the hut. He was immediately surprised by the change in Kara's appearance. Her hair had been groomed; she wore a cream coloured shift in place of the grey one he'd grown used to seeing her wear, and a heavy, woollen shawl was draped around her shoulders. He guessed that Eadyth had been responsible for the transformation.   
"You look much better," he observed. "How do you feel?"   
"Human at least," she replied.   
"Um; Eadyth said you wanted to see me," and he stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed.   
"I owe you an answer, Bowen."   
"Yes," he agreed. When her hand stretched out towards him, he viewed it with wide-eyed curiosity.   
"Come and sit down," she pleaded; but he remained where he was. "Please, Bowen; I can't speak to you while you're standing."   
Cautiously, he sat down. "First," he said, "do you know the answer to your own question?"   
"I'm not with child." She noted the relief on his face. "But you need an answer. Bowen; I will marry you."   
He positively beamed. "Kara, you make me a happy man."   
"I hope I can live up to your belief in me."   
"You will," and he finally reached for her, drawing her tenderly into his arms; feeling her hands creep around his back and cling onto the tunic. Her face pillowed against his chest and he buried his fingers in the wiry, red curls of her hair. He was content at last. 

********** 

The fish came back to the river; snow fell on the fields and a village prepared for a wedding. However; it was to take place at Freyne's old fortress; the place where Bowen himself had   
trained and then taught Einon. To him, it was the last place he had called home and   
where he wanted his new life to begin. The great midwinter festival of Yule had been celebrated more exuberantly than in past years and for Kara there was much to contemplate as the year turned.   
Her sickness had mended and her mind set at ease in good time for Yule, and now Eadyth was fussing over the young woman, almost as excited as if one of her own girls were preparing to marry.   
"I envy you," Eadyth enthused, "Bowen is a fine figure of a man and I detect a gentleness in him too." She helped Kara into the new gown of russet that would be her wedding dress.   
"He has patience," Kara admitted shyly. She sighed. "I hope it lasts."   
"What? The marriage?"   
"No; his patience."   
"Just remember all I told you. Trust him; listen to your body and so will he." Seeing a cloud of uncertainty pass over Kara's face, Eadyth pinched the young girl's arm. "Don't worry," she soothed, "you've experienced the worst; no man can do anymore to you than that."   
Then the tears fell. "I know that - in my head. But I'm so afraid that I will not be able to let go of the memory."   
"Tell me," and she took Kara by the arm, "do you love Bowen?"   
"Yes."   
"He has kissed you?"   
"Several times."   
"What did you feel?"   
She had to think. "That there was something more I wanted."   
"You'll be fine," Eadyth assured her. 

********** 

It was a simple ceremony. Gilbert officiated in a small chapel at the lodge in the fortress, then the newlyweds joined the entire village for a feast of a lifetime in the great hall of the place. Bowen felt at ease for the first time in many years. His new tunic of pale blue tended to emphasise the depth of his eyes which twinkled as brightly as any stars. The celebrations went on until the daylight faded and then Bowen led Kara out in the compound where they searched for - and found - Draco's star.   
However, it was Kara's turn to offer comfort. "There was nothing else you could have done, even if he hadn't been the last."   
Bowen glanced down at her. "I know. It all comes back to Einon though, doesn't it? If he hadn't galloped down to join his father that day then the accident wouldn't have happened. Had he even died of the wound things would have been different for both of us. But we can't know how long dragons would have survived even without my onslaught. I killed a dozen, no more; I wasn't the only dragonslayer at large."   
She touched his arm. "It does no good to dwell on the past as I know only too well. We must forget it - or at least learn from it."   
"Yes," he smiled. "It's cold out here, let's return to the celebrations."   
"Can't we just leave?"   
He acted surprised. "Are you sure?"   
"Why delay any longer? I owe you this much."   
He turned her to face him. "Never say that; it isn't a debt, you owe me nothing."   
"Perhaps; but I need to take this step, Bowen, I want to, for myself as much as you."   
Leaning down, Bowen kissed Kara's forehead. "As you wish -my lady," he added meaningfully. 

********** 

They avoided their friends gathered in the great hall of the wooden fortress and skirted around to the passage leading to rooms once occupied by Queen Aislinn. Situated in the main lodge of the entire complex, they consisted of an ante-chamber and a bedchamber separated from it by a wooden screen. Kara had never seen these rooms, nor was she aware of the preparations that had gone on to welcome her to them.   
No sooner had she entered the ante-chamber than it all became evident. Everywhere hung garlands of evergreens - holly; firs and mistletoe. A tapestry hung over the shuttered   
windows to keep out the draught and a fire burned brightly in the hearth. Oil lamps flickered on the walls and in fittings hanging from the ceiling and Kara's breath was taken away.   
"This is beautiful," she enthused, gazing at it all.   
"So are you," Bowen said from behind her.   
She glanced over her shoulder, smiled and whispered: "This is our beginning, Bowen." Continuing into the room, she noticed the screen. "What's behind there?"   
Clearing his throat, he replied: "The bedchamber." Drawing level with her, he fingered her sleeve. She looked up. "This isn't easy for me either," he told her. "It's been so long... "   
Without comment, merely a sweet smile, Kara walked beyond the screen. Dominating the area was a large, wooden-framed bed strewn with leaves and winter blossoms. In one corner a niche concealed what - unbeknown to Kara - was a latrine; and in another stood a portable screen. She went towards that; peered behind it to see a large tub.   
"What's this for?" she turned to ask Bowen.   
Smiling in amusement, he answered: "It's a bathing tub!"   
"Why?" she frowned.   
His smile became a laugh. "To wash in of course! See, there's a pitcher of water to heat on the fire," pointing to a large jug. "Have you never bathed in hot water?!" he exclaimed.   
"Not in a trough," came the honest retort.   
"So in the winter you stay dirty?!" he said incredulously.   
She didn't answer just shrugged her shoulders and rocked on her heels.   
"I can see there's much I need to teach you!" he said with a wicked grin, catching her around the waist.   
Drifting into the embrace, she also welcomed the kiss that followed. It felt right to have his arms around her, in much the same way as when her father had comforted her as a child. But this particular kiss became more than his previous ones; the pressure was harder and his mouth almost devoured hers, whilst his hands gently caressed her back. To remain on her feet, she had to hold onto him; curling her arms around his neck, trapping the length of his hair beneath them.   
There was a certain skill in the kiss and Kara was to learn the extent of Bowen's skills as a lover when he broke from her mouth to cover her face and neck in more kisses. She clung tighter; he lifted her off the floor and swung her around, making her squeal with delight. He was playing with her. Then he set her back on her feet beside the bed and scrutinised her face.   
"I love you so much," he said sincerely, "I do not deserve you."   
"You deserve better," she insisted, "I am spoiled goods."   
His smile evaporated and took the merriment with it. "Don't say that!" he said vehemently, almost shaking her. "You were raped! You did not behave like a whore!"   
"No; but I still hate Einon for denying me the chance to gift you with my innocence."   
"I have your love; your heart, as you have mine." Taking a deep breath, he went on with great emotion: "I am no innocent either and I don't just mean that I was married fifteen years ago."   
Kara viewed the man before her. "It's accepted that men have... needs - "   
" - an excuse! But I haven't slept with a woman for... " and he calculated it, "at least a year."   
"Until you slept with me during my fever."   
"That was in all innocence."   
"Was it?"   
"You know it was," his brow puckering.   
"You felt nothing?"   
The frown deepened. "Fear; a wish to take the fever into myself."   
"Desire?" she pushed.   
Bowen looked shamefaced. "Yes," he confessed.   
"Honest answer, Bowen."   
"We should go to bed," he suddenly decided. "It's been an emotional and exhausting day." So saying, he began to undress; unbuckling the silver-ornamented belt and laying it reverently on a stool. He sat on the bed to remove his shoes then stood to pull the new tunic over his head. Catching Kara's bewildered look, he stopped. Holding the tunic in his hands, he asked: "Do you want privacy?"   
"No - no, it's alright." Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the lacings at her neck.   
"Here - let me," he offered, laying aside the tunic.   
She stared at him; then down at his fingers as they expertly unthreaded the leather through wool. "Thank you," she said when he'd done.   
"You're welcome," he smiled as he unhitched both hose and breeches and let them fall. He bent to pick the garments up and coming up to her level, he couldn't help but catch the wild-eyed stare. His shirt stopped around thigh level but he became aware of the impact his appearance had on her. "I'll leave you a moment," he told her and promptly strode towards the niche.   
She knew he was giving her time to prepare in private. Pulling the gown over her head, she quickly laid it on top of his clothes, removed her shoes and scrambled into the bed. He returned just as she lay down and carefully climbed in beside her. Immediately, he put an arm around to pull her towards himself.   
"Goodnight, love," he said, planting one sweet kiss on her mouth before tucking the covers about his shoulders.   
She was too shocked to answer; shocked and surprised. Extending a hand, she let one finger touch his cheek. "Bowen, it's alright, really it is. I want to know what you feel like."   
"Do you now?" and he kissed her; his hands caressed her back, kneading the fabric of her shift.   
She found it easy to respond to his manipulation, pushing closer to him in encouragement. Her shift rode up past her knees and they touched his legs; warm and muscular. When he rolled her onto her back and stared down at her, she felt a momentary flicker of bad memory... But it passed as soon as his mouth again met hers; travelling over her throat and down into the narrow opening of the shift. One of his hands covered her breast and began an independent motion before it slipped inside the neck of the shift and found a nipple there.   
He murmured unintelligible words in her ear; soothing sounds for all that, then pushed the shift up beyond her thighs. For a moment, his hand only rested on her hip; then he knelt, dragged his shirt up over his head and cast it aside. His face bore an expression of sweet resolve as his mouth lowered to touch hers again. He lay down beside her.   
Quietly, he pleaded in her ear: "Let me remove this," pushing the shift higher still.   
Raising her arms, she allowed him to and he flung the garment away. His attentions turned to the expanses of exposed flesh beginning with her breasts, feasting on the soft mounds and stimulating her in a way she never dreamed possible. She gasped as his tongue flicked over her nipples; grasping wildly for any part of him her hands could reach. They found his hair and entangled themselves into the auburn tresses.   
His head raised. "Steady, love," he complained, "not so rough," gently disengaging her fingers to kiss them.   
"I'm sorry; I don't know what's happening to me."   
He laughed. "I'm making love to you!"   
"No - I mean: I didn't expect to feel this... this... desire."   
"Oh really?! But do you like it?" and he grinned before tasting the flesh at her belly.   
"Yes," came the heated response.   
Bowen's mouth trailed further south. When his lips touched her inner thigh, Kara flinched. Up came his head again. "I will not hurt you," he promised, "but if you want me to stop now, I will." He pushed up on his hands; ablaze with passion, he still had control over it.   
She stroked his cheek then ran a finger over the scar Einon had given him before descending into the thatch of darker hair on his chest. "He hurt me," she said with a quiver in her voice.   
"I expect so; but there is only pain that first time."   
"No," she argued, "it didn't stop; each thrust was like a sword in my belly."   
Bowen's mouth curled in disgust. "Einon was always ruthless." Sighing, he continued: "I am the first to make love to you, Kara; I swear you need not fear." At that moment, he hated Einon more than he had thought possible; yet there was only one way to eradicate that memory from Kara's mind. "Kara, you are halfway to ending this nightmare," he persuaded. "Trust me."   
She looked straight into his eyes. They held warmth and truth. "I was afraid of this; of disappointing you."   
He sighed once more. "I am not disappointed; just sad for you. Is it my body you fear?"   
"Yes," she admitted shyly.   
"Do you trust my hands?"   
"Yes, but - "   
He silenced her. "Then let my fingers prove to you that there is nothing to fear." Before she had time to react, he slid a hand between her thighs, nudging them apart. Gently, he allowed one finger to touch the most sensitive part of her body and immediately felt her tense against him. "Ssh," he soothed. "Relax; let go."   
She let go of a long sigh then met his eyes again just as he kissed her. The finger was moving; slowly at first then quickening until her belly responded with a curious, painless ache. She heard a moan - her own and murmured his name. Reaching up, she caught his shoulders; his finger slipped from her body and he moved onto his knees between hers, but she remained focused on his face; it dipped and she felt something re-enter her. His body connected to hers - inside and out - strong arms flexed beside hers as he began a new rhythm.   
Bowen supported his bodyweight whilst enjoying the sensation of Kara's skin against his own. Her breasts brushed his chest as he thrust forwards; her knees rubbed his hips and small feet scraped against his shins. He had her riding on the tide of her own passion and that in turn fuelled his own. The pressure was building but he didn't want to end it yet so he withdrew from her and kissed her tenderly.   
"What's wrong?" she asked in alarm.   
"Nothing," he said truthfully, "I don't want this to end too soon."   
"But it must, you cannot hold back forever."   
A huge grin split his face. "Long enough to pleasure you!" and he took her with him as he rolled onto his back.   
"I thought you were," she said with a smile.   
"I was? Good! Now you pleasure me."   
Kara frowned as Bowen lifted her almost bodily and laid her on top of himself; she wasn't sure what was expected of her. She struggled off his chest; her legs dropped between his and her hands grasped his shoulders - but this was no love position. "What do you want me to do?"   
"Whatever you wish," a bemused expression radiating towards her. He moved his hips; his hand went to his phallus. "Take it," he said, "you are in command now." Guiding her hands too, he again entered her with as gentle a move as the first. "Listen to your instincts," he tutored.   
Listen, she did, finding a certain joy in the superiority of her position. At the same time it became patently obvious that Bowen was gaining pleasure from even those first, hesitant moves. She saw his eyes close as she rocked her hips; one of his hands shot out to grasp at the rumpled bedding; he moaned, but it was no agony. Giggling, she moved faster; a thrill went through her with every sharp intake of his breath. There came a great tingling deep within her; so intense did it become that she feared its outcome. Then he took command.   
He grasped her around the waist. "Don't stop!" he urged in a strangled tone. "This you have earned." He knew what was happening to her; as surely as his own body matched her mounting pleasure, it now built up to its own climax. Inevitably the pressure burst, drawing from Kara great gasps as her body shuddered above him. Bowen could hardly hold back, but he forced his body to obey him and slid out of hers. She groaned and slumped forward onto his chest. He held her close, gently nuzzling her neck and brushing her hair away from her face.   
Lifting her head, Kara looked long and hard at the man beneath her. "What happened?" she asked in all innocence.   
He smiled up at her. "You made the journey for yourself; nothing can touch you now." Carefully, he rolled over, putting her onto her back. With one arm propped above her head and the other casually across her waist, Bowen regarded her with adoration.   
"So at last I am your wife," she declared.   
"No doubt about that!" he answered playfully. He then slid off the bed and padded towards the latrine.   
"Where are you going?" she called then realised it was a foolish question. Yet something was missing. She conjured up Einon and his frenetic conclusion; Bowen hadn't done that. Why? Sitting up, she pulled a blanket around her shoulders for warmth and awaited Bowen's return.   
He strode back, still naked, glistening with sweat from brow to hip and scrambled back onto the bed. He reached for her only she pulled back; he frowned. "What's wrong?"   
"You didn't... it didn't happen for you," she stammered.   
He engaged her eyes; blue on amber and hooked an arm about her. "Yes it did."   
"No, Bowen. Remember, I am no innocent in the ways of men."   
"Yes you are, love. Einon only cared about himself; he even risked getting you with child. That I will not do; not yet."   
"You can choose!" she exclaimed.   
"Of course. A child is an awesome responsibility and... " He faltered. "And a step I am cautious of taking again."   
Kara drew back. "Because of Moire?"   
"Yes," he croaked. "I saw her struggles and was powerless to help. It humbles a man to see a woman in childbirth," and he shivered, as much from memory as the cold. Swinging a blanket around his shoulders, he huddled beneath it.   
"You... saw her? You were there?!" Kara stuttered in disbelief.   
He nodded. "The midwife was in the next village; we were alone." His brow furrowed as he remembered. "I had only seen horses give birth; but it did not prepare me for the birth of my son. I couldn't ease her pain or help the child. Later, the midwife told me that some women are not built to bear children." He snorted. "Little comfort in that! Moire bled to death birthing too large a child from too small a body." His head slumped forward.   
Kara touched his cheek. "You are cold," she observed.   
Turning pain-filled eyes upon her, Bowen declared: "No, love; you have warmed my soul." He sniffed. "Forgive me; this is your wedding night, I should not be speaking of her."   
"Why not? It helps me to know what you have endured."   
"I have endured nothing!" he said vehemently. "I would gladly have given my sword arm to have saved her life! Her death was the beginning of my disenchantment with life." He looked hard at Kara. "Perhaps I wanted to die. All those years of slaying dragons; maybe I wanted one to kill me. Aislinn used to say that the gods have a purpose for us all; I never understood that - until now."   
Climbing into Bowen's lap, Kara cradled his head against her bosom. She felt hot tears against her skin that filled her with compassion. A man who could weep; a man who studied the feelings of women; a man with a heart - this was Bowen and he had married her. For several minutes they clung together before lying back down and falling asleep in each other's arms. 

********** 

Dawn broke and Kara awoke; she knew something was amiss. It drove her from the bed; forced her to dress quickly and seek the warmth of the main hearth. That was where Bowen found her. He had slung a blanket around him and plodded cautiously beyond the wooden screen in search of his wife. She sat on a stool, hunched over her knees and tilted up her head when he approached.   
"Is something wrong?" he asked, bending over her. "Tell me," he encouraged, not liking the look of her drawn features.   
With a thin smile, she formulated an answer. "Just a woman's curse."   
"Your flux has started," he said with a broad grin. She didn't match it. Stooping down, he laid a hand on her arm. "Are you in pain then?" When she nodded, he went on: "Let me help you."   
"Help? How can you?"   
"Kneel on the floor," he commanded as he too knelt and wrapped the blanket around his waist. Spreading his hands above the fire, he took in as much heat as he could bear. "Lean back against me."   
Doing as he said, she watched his hands. They pulled the hem of her gown from under her knees then disappeared beneath the garment. As they clamped onto her belly, Kara gasped in shock; but the warmth that spread from his flesh to hers soothed both mind and body.   
"Better?" he said into her ear.   
"Yes; the pain is easing."   
"Did your mother never tell you of this remedy?" as he repeated the process.   
"She died when I was a child," she reminded him.   
"Then someone should have tutored you - in all things," he added meaningfully.   
"There was never time," she excused, leaning heavily into him.   
"Pity." He would have warmed his hands a third time but she stopped him.   
"The pain has gone," and she sat on her haunches. "There is snow outside; have you seen?"   
"No; I only had eyes for you," and he sat cross-legged beside her; crossing his hands over his knees.   
"How long were you married?"   
"Two years."   
"Not long."   
"No." His scrutiny of her brought forth a smile.   
"Why do you stare at me?"   
Drawing up his knees, Bowen answered: "I cannot believe my fortune; you are so beautiful."   
"This morning, I do not feel beautiful."   
"Come to me if the pain returns," he offered.   
"Any excuse to get your hands beneath my gown!" she quipped but sobered when she observed the injured expression that appeared on his face.   
"I would have you well and happy. Besides, what good would my overtures do me in your present state?"   
"It was meant as a jest."   
"Then it was a poor one." He rose, crossed to where his clothes were and proceeded to dress, uncaring that she watched his every move. "Will you eat; or drink something? A posit may ward off any more cramps."   
Clambering to her feet, Kara wandered up beside Bowen, catching his hands as he buckled his belt. His eyes went to her hands then her face. "What else do you know of women's ailments?" she questioned softly.   
He shrugged. "Is that an ailment then?" His eyes bored into hers.   
"You know far more than I would expect."   
"Living with a woman does that," and he turned away.   
"Bowen, have I offended you?"   
Swinging back to face her - his mouth set in disdain - he replied: "You have a poor opinion of men I think."   
"I only knew my father well and he seemed oblivious to... this."   
"Husbands are different," he said sternly, "didn't Eadyth explain?"   
"She never mentioned this - no. It's just... I didn't think... " He was about to go so she held onto his arm. "I never expected so much... understanding. Love - yes; tenderness even, but not to this level. I like it, Bowen," and she smiled sincerely.   
He relaxed again. "So; do you want the posit?"   
"If it pleases you to fuss over me - yes. Its warmth will be welcome, though your hands are perhaps more effective." She allowed the compliment to sink into his brain before releasing his arm and was relieved when a merry smile reappeared.   
"You can have my hands anytime, love!" one of which cupped her chin so he could kiss her mouth.   
"I will hold you to that."   
He laughed. "We shall see!" then he left the chamber. 

********** 

The snow worsened, halting all the renovation work that Bowen had planned. He began to wander aimlessly around the wooden fortress like some caged animal. His life had always held purpose, whether as a trainee knight; husband or teacher; even his enterprises as a dragonslayer gave him reason enough to rise of a morning. He was an active man, not a planner or even a scholar. Even with Gilbert's expertise with quill and pen, Bowen could not settle to forward planning.   
"Curse this weather!" he railed, thumping the table and upsetting the monk's inkwell, startling him sufficiently so he wobbled on his chair.   
"Calm yourself, Bowen; it never lasts forever and you surely have ample here to occupy your... mind." Monk he may be, but Brother Gilbert understood the ways of life only too well.   
Bowen cast a disgruntled glance at his scribe. "Even I don't have that much energy," the comment lacking his usual good humour.   
"Forgive me, Bowen, I didn't mean to be impudent - or indelicate. Have I offended you?"   
"No, Brother Gilbert; not you," but he noticed the priest continued to stare at him. "Go on, say what's on your mind."   
"It's hardly my place, but I overheard Kara talking to Eadyth..." and he hesitated.   
Righting the inkwell and mopping up the spillage on a scrap of cloth, Bowen knew he had to say something. "She wants a child," he said simply, "and doesn't understand my reluctance."   
"Reluctance?" Gilbert echoed, frowning at the knight. "Surely it's in God's hands, my son?"   
"Mine, actually," and Bowen grinned briefly.   
Gilbert blushed. He understood what Bowen meant and regarded it as a sin, though he hardly dare say so. "You are married," he began. "Children are the natural product of physical union." Then another thought struck him. "You have... er... consummated the marriage?"   
"Yes! Not that it's any of your business." He scraped back his chair and stormed across to the shuttered windows. Unfastening one, he let in an icy blast that straightway cut into his face. Ironic; the situation he was in cut far deeper.   
Shivering, Gilbert rose from his seat and joined Bowen at the open window. "Then leave it to God," he counselled.   
Rounding on the monk, Bowen shot back a retort. "It's not that simple and Kara knows my reasons!"   
"I heard about your first wife," Gilbert said in sympathy. "But that doesn't mean it will happen again."   
"Would you want to risk it?!" he snapped.   
"I'm hardly in a position.. it was never... how can I say?"   
"I love her," Bowen affirmed, "can you blame me for wanting time with her? We've only been wed a month," he reasoned. "It's too soon to consider anything more."   
"But it's making you miserable."   
"She's becoming insistent," he complained.   
"Why? If she knows your heart surely she's bound by her vows to obey you."   
Bowen laughed half-heartedly. "Have you ever known Kara to obey blindly?!"   
"You are breaking God's law in... in... preventing conception."   
"Am I? Where does it say that, Brother Gilbert? Am I not meant to honour and protect my wife? What if she cannot carry a child?" His hand struck the shutter; it shuddered under the impact and a thin stream of blood trickled from a gash along the edge of the hand.   
"That will do no good, Bowen; here, let me see that cut."   
Bowen inspected the wound and refused to let Gilbert see it. "I would rather shed my own blood than hers."   
Lowering his eyes, the priest was at a loss. "I will pray that you receive counsel in this," he said, "there must be a satisfactory resolution for all."   
Inspiration suddenly flooded in as yet more snow began to fall and be blown into the room. Clapping Gilbert on the shoulder, Bowen smiled. "There is!" he told him. "If I can find her."   
"Her? Who?"   
"Never mind. Right, Brother Gilbert, let's return to these parchments of yours," and for the moment the matter was closed. 

********** 

  
That night, Kara again broached the subject of a child. Snuggling closer to Bowen, she put a hand on his hip, sliding the fabric of his linen shirt, up the bone. His hand landed smartly on top of hers; she flinched.   
"Don't!" he commanded. "Hear me out before you attempt to seduce me. There is someone I want you to meet; if I can find her."   
"Her?" hastily pulling back her hand. "What else haven't you told me?"   
"I'll explain when I find her; then we can discuss a child. But we have plenty of time."   
"No, Bowen, we don't."   
"What are you talking about? Men older than me have sired children."   
"That's as maybe but you haven't considered my age."   
Nor had he. "You are not old."   
"I'm twenty-eight years old, Bowen; I've always known how to count and also know that my mother was thirty-five when she died."   
Bowen frowned. "Does this have any bearing on - ?"   
" - she died in childbirth. Bowen; I am the only one of four children to have lived."   
"All the more reason not to risk it yourself."   
"Babies die; older women too. Don't condemn me to that."   
"Moire was younger than you," he informed her, "she was only nineteen." His heart softened as he stretched out a hand towards Kara. "I beg you; let me find this woman."   
Kara agreed; but with guarded reservation. She went into Bowen's arms and resumed her attempted seduction. He let her, but as always, he held back at the last. 

********** 

Bowen had been gone for two days and it was Kara's turn to pace the wooden halls. She hadn't wanted him to venture out while the snow was still so deep, but he'd insisted. He wanted to resolve their dilemma, he told her; wouldn't permit anymore delays. At least the sky was blue, all snow clouds had vanished and the promise of a thaw hung in the air. Perhaps it was as well that Bowen wasn't there; she had her moon-cycle and wasn't in the best of spirits; but the bed was cold and lonely without him. she had never imagined she could miss him so much.   
Aislinn's former ante-chamber still harboured a cold draught, fanning the flames in the great hearth. Excluding such draughts had been one of the casualties of the extreme weather and - like Bowen had done - Kara mentally cursed winter.   
A sound filtered up from the compound and sent her to the window. Braving the elements, she dared open one shutter to peer down from the high lodge. Her eyes detected a dark horse with an equally dark rider on its back; but it wasn't Bowen. She looked again, leaning out of the casement. Yes, he was there; leading his own horse towards the stables. So who was the mysteriously-garbed rider?   
Closing the shutter, Kara's stomach began a new churning sensation. Had he located the woman he'd gone to seek? He had never explained who she was, why her presence was required or so important to him. All her wild notions though, were as nothing compared to the final truth.   
She heard footsteps and the rattle of buckles against leather. Steeling herself, she watched the doorway to the passage. A shadow moved swiftly; a tall shadow. Taking a deep breath, Kara clasped her hands across her stomach and waited...   
The shadow grew until its owner stepped into the portal. Bowen went quickly towards Kara, enfolding her in a loving embrace; delighting in the warmth of her. "I missed you," he breathed into her hair before putting her at arms' length.   
"Who came with you? I saw someone in the compound."   
"Oh." He cleared his throat. "I found the woman I went to seek."   
"Who is she, Bowen?"   
"A midwife," he answered simply.   
"A midwife? But... why?"   
"She attended Aislinn; amongst others. Had she been there when my son was born Moire might not have died."   
"You blame this woman?" she said, her eyes flickering with an inexplicable anger.   
"Yes; and we argued after, that's why I wasn't sure she'd come."   
"Why did you want her to?"   
"She has certain knowledge as well as skills."   
At that moment, Kara's attention was drawn back to the portal behind Bowen. There stood a figure garbed in black from hood to hem; but still recognisable as a woman. Bowen whirled; his own cloak swung and his hair flew out in the momentum. Kara could still see his face and the faint trace of fear upon it; she noticed his eyes connect with and cower from those of the woman whose features were still hidden beneath her hood. His head bowed in respect and he took a pace to one side. That surprised Kara; why would Bowen bow to a mere midwife?   
"Bowen, who - ?" she began, but the woman's voice cut her short.   
"You did not lie, Bowen; she is a beauty." Gnarled hands pushed back the hood, revealing a regal face; still fairly smooth-skinned, unlike her hands.   
"No, Madam," and again he bowed to her.   
Kara thought she must be a noblewoman and wanted to ask questions, but the midwife had already stepped forward and was scrutinising her.   
"So; you are Bowen's wife."   
"Yes - Madam," adding the courtesy title as an afterthought.   
"Do you know who I am?"   
"Only that you are a midwife."   
"Ah; he told you that much," and she spared Bowen a glance. Her head was covered in a wimple and veil, giving no hint of her colouring - apart from vivid blue eyes that danced in the natural light. Those eyes fell back on Kara. "But you have no need of my skills - yet."   
"Madam," Bowen interjected, "we have need of your knowledge."   
Her head turned slowly, withering Bowen under a cold gaze. "Speak," she commanded him.   
"You once told me that not all women are built for child-bearing. Kara wishes to bear my child but I am loathe to put another woman through that which Moire endured." His voice had remained steady if soft.   
"Ah." Her fingers latched onto his leather surcoat. "You trust my judgement, eh?"   
"I always trusted your judgement, Madam," he answered sternly.   
"Mm; it was just my priorities you questioned, is that it? She delivered early; even my knowledge does not extend to prophesy!" she hurled back at him.   
Kara stepped forward. "Madam; we cannot alter the past but if you can help us decide our future, Bowen and I would be grateful."   
The midwife laughed. "She has spirit enough, Bowen! Perhaps enough to carry her to full term. You wish for me to examine her?" She received his nod. "Am I forgiven then?" she asked him.   
"I forgave you a long time ago," he said hoarsely.   
"Then why didn't you come home?"   
Bowen turned away. Kara did not understand the hold this woman seemingly had upon him. Burning with questions, she caught at his sleeve, succeeding in gaining his attention; but it was a pained expression he bestowed upon her before facing the woman again.   
"I was ashamed that we quarrelled," he admitted. "But then my life altered to the degree where I knew you could never approve."   
"On that you are right!" she shouted, pointing a finger at him.   
Then Kara rounded on the woman. "What is it to you what he did?! Your help has been asked for yet you rail at him as if you had some rights over him!"   
"I have every right!" she said in controlled anger. "He is my son!"   
Stunned, Kara could only stammer a response. "Y-your - son?!" her eyes flying from one to another and back again.   
The woman's eyes now blazed in fury. "I see he did not tell you about me."   
"N-no," Kara admitted and her breathing grew heavy. A cramp developed in her stomach and she passed a hand absently across it.   
Bowen understood the action and went to his wife's side, sliding a protective arm about her just as his mother introduced herself to Kara.   
"I am Nerys; a Celt, as was Aislinn," she explained. "My heritage lies in the Once Ways. Bowen - like his father - chose a different creed and that eventually tore us apart."   
"I trained in the Old Code," Bowen defended.   
"And chose to destroy the dragons who wrote it!" she spewed at him.   
"The dragons?" Kara questioned. "They wrote the Code?!"   
"Yes - the dragons. He chose to teach a dragonslayer's son - "   
" - the ways of the Code," Bowen interjected, earning himself a scowl from his mother. "He betrayed us all."   
"As I could have told you he would. You forget, I brought Einon into the world. At Aislinn's request I attended her confinement; she hoped for a child to heal the breach between mankind and the dragons, but you never listened to me on that."   
"No; I only realised when it was too late," his mind returning to the tor of Avalon and Draco's confession.   
Nerys resumed her narrative, addressing her words to Kara. "No, he consigned it all the legend; a sad memory. Even before the boy was injured, Bowen and I had grown apart, Moire's death had seen to that; but his pursuit of the dragons did more to erase him from my heart than any words he had flung at me." She turned to her son. "Now I know of your guilt, the penitence and your defence of the last dragon."   
"It all came too late," he said sadly.   
"It often does," Nerys agreed softly.   
Bowen fell to his knees, bowing his head to await the chastisement he felt was long overdue. She had never withheld punishment when he was a boy; many a time her hand had smacked him soundly on any exposed areas of flesh she could reach. Once, she had even clouted him on the backside with a wooden ladle; that had stung his pride as much as the flesh for he'd been twelve years old then and considered himself too old for her to deal with. The years had left their mark on both mother and son. He felt her hand on his head.   
"Bowen, the world has changed and so must we; who knows what the future holds for any of us, especially without the dragons."   
Kara watched as Bowen raised his head to look at his mother and then saw the similarity between the two. Their colouring; shape of nose; but more especially - the eyes. Leaning down, she whispered to her husband: "You have made your peace; what now?"   
Caught between these two women - mother and wife - Bowen sighed. Still on his knees, he said to Nerys: "Will you consider my request, Madam?"   
"For her sake, yes."   
"And what of me?"   
Bending, Nerys encouraged Bowen to rise. "Do you want a child, Bowen?"   
"What man doesn't?"   
"Then let us proceed." 

********** 

Spring was on its way. The snows had melted quite dramatically giving way to green shoots and allowing work to continue. Bowen once again led the peasants in an onslaught on the land to bring it into good order. Ditches were drained; fields ploughed and trees cut down to repair the palisades of the old wooden fortress; even draught-proofing the lodge went ahead at last. Kara, however was still glum. It had been two months since Nerys had left; two months since the midwife had pronounced her well able to carry and birth a child; two months in which she and Bowen had - for the first time - enjoyed full intercourse, yet she hadn't conceived.   
"You didn't expect it to work straight away did you?" Bowen said at supper.   
"We've been wed three months now," Kara reasoned, "how long should it take?"   
He grinned then chomped on a piece of meat. With his mouth full, he replied: "You have a short memory. Don't you remember how long I was married?"   
"Two years."   
"Mm," reaching for the wine flagon and pouring himself a generous measure. He leaned closer to her as they sat side by side at the table. A little more seriously, he explained: "Moire and I were wed well over a year before she conceived; and I wasn't being careful!"   
Kara pursed her lips; she was impatient. "It has to happen soon," she whined.   
Bowen put an arm around her. "Why? I am content." He kissed her cheek. "I love you; I wanted to marry you not a brood mare!"   
"But... it's expected," and she raised watery eyes to him.   
"Not by me. If it happens, well enough; if not then - "   
" - it means I am barren."   
His brow furrowed. "Not necessarily."   
"Well it won't be your fault; you already sired a child!" and she bolted from the chair into the privacy of their bedchamber.   
Tutting, Bowen went after her. She stood by an open window just staring out at nothing in particular. Coming up behind her, he turned her around and embraced her. "Maybe we're trying too hard," he conjectured. "Perhaps we should forget about it and just enjoy each other."   
"Aren't we then?" she sniffed, raising her face from the soft haven of his chest.   
"I don't think you are." He cupped her face between his hands. "Three months, love; that's all the time we've had together. Before that, we were otherwise occupied. Let this time be ours; a time of courtship if you like. Treat me as your lover not a prize stallion."   
"My... lover?"   
"Yes," he whispered with a seductive smile. "Make me feel it's me you want, not what you think I can give you - what you think you owe me."   
"I never had a lover, Bowen, you know that."   
"No lad ever kissed you; held you in his arms?"   
"Einon took them all for his quarry; he left only women and old men to work our land, otherwise I may have been wed a long time since."   
"Then I do have something to thank Einon for," and he kissed her mouth tenderly. "Let me be your lover, Kara." The kiss led to other things and the supper was forgotten. 

********** 

A fortnight passed. On a bright, sunny morning, Kara rose from her bed feeling dizzy and nauseous. She dashed to the latrine and coughed up her heart.   
Hearing the disturbance, Bowen leapt out of the bed, not stopping even to pick up his shirt, and hurried, naked, to the niche. "Kara, are you alright?" but he met her coming back. Her face was ashen and he immediately knew what ailed her. "Well, looks like we'll be welcoming a Yuletide infant," he grinned at her.   
"What?" she said wearily, wiping her hands on the linen shift she seldom took off, except to launder it.   
"Come on! Surely you know by the way you feel."   
She continued to stare stupidly at him.   
"My love, I'd guess you are with child," and he hugged her.   
"I'm not late - yet," she informed him, pushing against muscled shoulders.   
"Do you care to wager on my prediction?"   
"No; I feel awful," putting a hand to her head.   
"A piece of bread and a cup of milk," as he took her by her other hand.   
"What?"   
"You must still eat," and he led her across the room, stopping only to pick up his shirt.   
"I can't."   
"Yes you can." He pushed her out into the ante-chamber. "Do as you're told!" He swiftly pulled the shirt over his head - thus preserving modesty should anyone come calling - walking as he did so, only to find Kara hunched over the table, hands flat on it and head tucked onto her chest. Bowen gripped her shoulders. "Sit," he ordered, "I'll do it."   
She was compelled to do his bidding. He sat on a chair, one elbow on the table, feeding her portions of bread and insisting she drink the goat's milk. "No more," she said, waving away the lump of bread held between thumb and forefinger.   
"Just this," he insisted, "then you can dress and join me outside."   
"Bowen, I can't."   
"Will you listen to yourself. You're pregnant, Kara, not dying! It will all pass."   
"When?"   
"In a few weeks."   
"Weeks!" she echoed and groaned.   
"So much for Eadyth tutoring you!" he scoffed. "Didn't my mother explain any of this to you either?"   
"She mentioned sickness, but I didn't expect to feel so ill."   
"Shall I fetch her back here?"   
"Why?"   
"Because she is my mother; that is her grandchild," as he flattened his hand against Kara's stomach. "Since you have no mother of your own."   
"Very well," she said grudgingly.   
"Fine. As soon as the new gates are hung, I'll set off." He pinched her shoulder. "We must protect what was so dearly won; there may be other princes out there eager to claim this realm now. The land is no longer united as in Arthur's day."   
"Will it ever be again?"   
Bowen shrugged. "Perhaps. But until it is, this corner of it belongs to we who fought to free it from tyranny." 

********** 

Nerys came to the fortress and was given a room in the lodge. She seemed happy to be in Kara's company though there was still a measure of strained atmosphere between Bowen and his mother. The midwife carried herself as a noblewoman and Kara wondered about her heritage, but daren't presume to ask; she decided that Nerys herself would impart any   
information she wanted Kara to know. She did wonder if the woman regarded that her son had married beneath him.   
Unexpectedly, Kara found extra support from Brother Gilbert. He helped her to adjust to the life of a knight's wife and even showed her how to write her letters so that she might interpret any messages that came her way. It was a Saxon tradition, he told her, that wives learn as partners not vassals. She found it easy to learn and come May was able to set down the names of all she knew. Bowen too was proud of her achievements and wasn't stinting in his praise. By that time too, the sickness phase of the pregnancy had passed and Kara felt better able to cope with anything that life sent her way.   
The spring planting began to yield fruit and still work went on to repair the lesser buildings of the fortress. The granary was a priority, and one hot day in June, Bowen laboured - stripped to the waist - alongside a group of villagers; chief among them being Hewe.   
"How's the lass now?" he questioned Bowen as he peeled off his own shirt.   
"Well," Bowen panted, wiping a grimy hand across his brow. Looking around, he dipped a wooden bowl into a water butt, filled it and tipped the contents over his head. Ploughing his hands back through his hair, he then refilled the bowl and swigged back the water before offering the vessel to Hewe.   
The one-eyed peasant took the bowl gratefully and quenched his own thirst. "She'll do you proud, Bowen mark my words. Come Yuletide you'll be celebrating the birth of a fine son!" he enthused.   
Bowen smiled. "It doesn't matter, as long as Kara and the child are well. You have three daughters, Hewe; you wouldn't swap them would you?"   
"Yes, I would! Girls are trouble, Bowen. Always some young lad bent on stealing their virtue!" he said in all seriousness.   
Yes, Bowen thought; some lads were like that. He remembered his own youth and a dark haired beauty he'd once known - very well... But the past could never be altered and in some respects, he was glad of it.   
"And who has to take care of the bastards?" Hewe asked. "People like us," he answered himself.   
Bowen picked up his axe again, sparing a curious glance at his companion. "What are you saying? Is one of your girls - ?"   
" - yes!" he shot back. "Well, he'll marry her or have me use this!" and he brandished an axe of his own.   
"You wouldn't?!" Bowen said, trying to conceal a smile yet imagining the sting if such a threat were carried out.   
"Oh yes I would!" Hewe affirmed.   
"Hewe," Bowen begged, "is there any need for such hasty action? Has he refused to marry her? Did he... did he have her consent?"   
Hewe suddenly understood. "You're right, Bowen - as always. Yes, he had her consent; she begged me to let her marry him."   
"Then there's no problem," and he slapped the man on the back, "except perhaps, your pride," grinning at him.   
"Aye," and he grinned sheepishly. "Right, lads!" he called out. "We've a granary to mend! Let's at it!" 

********** 

Hewe's daughter was duly wed and no more recriminations aimed at her. She had just about passed out of her sickness stage come harvest, whilst Kara suddenly blossomed.   
Bowen couldn't fathom it; her skin took on a glow he'd never seen on a woman before. She was only halfway through her pregnancy and still had the energy and stamina of a girl ten years her junior. Taking him at his word, she'd also begun to treat him as her lover as well as her husband and he feared for her safety. With that in mind, he sought out his mother.   
"Why complain, Bowen?" Nerys said, bemused by his embarrassment.   
"You know why," he said coyly.   
"Moire was no more than a child; narrow-hipped as I recall."   
Bowen scowled. "This is different."   
"How?"   
"She seduces me!" he said, flinging his arms wide. "I was told not to touch Moire as well you know, Madam!"   
Nerys smiled reassuringly and caught her son by the arm, walking him to the open windows. "Rest your conscience, Bowen, you can continue as you are until about her seventh month," and she thought a moment. "All Hallows!" and she began to laugh. "Samain; leave her be at Samain; does that satisfy you?"   
"I suppose so."   
Nerys touched Bowen's cheek. He flinched and his eyes widened. "You love this woman, don't you?" she said.   
"Of course."   
"She's a peasant."   
"Not anymore," affording her a disgruntled look. "I thought you liked her."   
"I do."   
"But not as my wife?" he questioned.   
Her smile broadened. "Just testing you, my son."   
Bowen winced; it was the first time she'd owned him as such in fifteen years. "She's my life, Mother," the title tripping easily off his tongue. Then he was in her arms.   
"I know, my lamb," feeling him stiffen at the childhood endearment; but he answered the embrace until she was captured against the hard muscles. "The gods can be kind, love," she murmured into his ear.   
Her breath was hot against his skin yet sent a chill through him nevertheless. He felt equally hot tears burn his eyes and he clung to the woman who had borne him. "Forgive me, Mam," he begged her.   
"When you call me thus, how can I not?" and she struggled out of his clutches. Taking his bearded chin in her hands, she said: "We said some harsh things, Bowen; grief makes idiots of us all." There were tears in her eyes too and she stood on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. Then she was held fiercely again and rocked as she once did to him. The healing had taken place. 

********** 

On the anniversary of Draco's death, Bowen returned to the castle to pay his respects. Beside him walked Kara, wrapped up against the bitter, winter winds. As they reached the spot where the last dragon had been chained, Bowen dropped to one knee - as he'd done when bidding farewell to Draco - and bowed his head. After a moment, he raised his eyes skywards, searching for Draco's star.   
Kara laid a hand on her husband's shoulder; but not in sympathy or comfort; she used him as a crutch to go down onto her own knees, for she was near to her delivery.   
Bowen's head whipped around to regard his wife. "Take care," he urged her.   
"Bowen, don't fuss!" she scolded, "Nerys says I am well."   
"Hm; she always was the optimist," and he lent his arms to help Kara settle on the cobbles.   
"Her reputation as a midwife is renowned."   
"The best," Bowen said with pride.   
"I am glad you two are reconciled." She gave a small laugh. "I well remember our first meeting," affording him an accusory glance.   
He ducked an invisible blow then grinned. "It all worked out better than I ever hoped." He gazed up at the star-studded sky and fancied he saw one winking at him. "Look," he pointed out, "Draco remembers us too."   
"Yes," Kara replied sadly. "I just wish he were here to see this," as she smoothed a hand over the great swell of her belly. Bowen's hand followed in her wake and she covered it with her other one. "Can you feel it moving?"   
"Yes. I feel it in my back some nights too!" but it was no complaint.   
"He wants you to know he's there."   
"He? Dangerous speculation, love. I don't need a kick in the back to remind me; it already keeps me from being as close to you as I want!"   
Kara smiled. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."   
"I didn't mean... " He sighed. "Why must you assume my thoughts are on carnal matters? I do enjoy just holding you," and his arms went around her shoulders to pull her into his side. "You're cold," he observed and flung the edge of his cloak about her as well. "Come on, we should leave." He helped her to rise and walked her slowly back to their waiting horses.   
"Would you really mind if this was a girl?" Kara asked as they walked.   
"Your life and a healthy child is all I ask for; it matters little whether you bear a son or not."   
"I thought all men wanted sons."   
"Do they?" he asked in genuine puzzlement. "Let's get you home," and he lifted her carefully into the saddle for what would be a slow journey. 

********** 

Nerys had mulled wine waiting when Bowen and Kara returned to the lodge. She'd also stoked the fire so that it blazed a welcome and served as a beacon even in the compound of the fortress.   
Bowen sipped at the beverage then looked at Kara. "You should go to bed," he advised.   
"I will. Goodnight, Nerys."   
"A peaceful night, daughter," smiling at the astonished looks she received from both Kara and her own son.   
"Go on," Bowen urged, "I won't be long."   
"Nor will she," Nerys predicted, miming a swollen stomach.   
"There's a fortnight yet," he told her. "Yuletide - remember?"   
"I think not. She's dropped already; I noticed this morning."   
"Is this just your eyes telling you? You haven't examined her?"   
"No; do you want me to?"   
"Only if Kara does."   
"She's not asked me."   
He planted his hands on his hips. "You two haven't quarrelled?"   
"Why would we?"   
"Because you're both strong-willed."   
"Humph! It's a poor opinion you have of your old mother."   
"I remember your temper!" and he smiled. "And don't use your age as an excuse; you're not ready for your grave yet."   
"I am three score years old, my son."   
"And as healthy as I am!" he exclaimed.   
"Don't exaggerate, Bowen! I am your mother, not your sister!" she rebuked. "Every year now is one closer to the grave; I just pray to live long enough to guide your child's first footsteps."   
"You will," he assured then embraced her.   
He towered above her as he had since he was fourteen years old, but he bent to accommodate her. "At least this one is full term," she said against his neck. "You must be prepared for the birth any day now."   
Drawing back, Bowen asked: "Is she well?"   
Looking up at her son, Nerys read the worry on his face. "Gently, Bowen; as I told you all those months ago, Kara is strong and well built; I see no reason anything should go wrong."   
"I pray you are right," he said on a sigh. 

********** 

That night, Bowen was awakened from a vivid dream by Kara poking him in the back. Dozily, he rolled into the centre of the bed, coming nose to nose with her. He yawned. "What?" he mumbled. "Why wake me?" but he caught the expression in her eyes as they glowed in the reflected light of the fire beyond the screen. He gasped and shot up in the bed. "Your time has come!" he declared, fear catching in his throat as the realisation impaled his heart.   
"I... I think so."   
No sooner had she spoken than he was out of bed, hunting around for his breeches. She called his name; he hopped on one foot as he struggled with the garment.   
"There's no rush; your mother has prepared me for this."   
"I'm still going to fetch her," as he headed to the screen. The floor struck cold against his bare feet but he paid no heed to the minor discomfort.   
Leaving the ante-chamber, he padded along the passage and entered his mother's room. Her form was easily distinguishable in the moonlit chamber and he called out softly as he approached her bed.   
Nerys opened her eyes to question who was there. Sitting up, she recognised her son. "Bowen; I can guess why you've come."   
"Then hurry - please."   
Propping herself up on one elbow, she sought to calm him. "Courage, Bowen; there is nothing anyone can do yet."   
"That's what frightens me most; being powerless."   
"Not completely; you can help, as I will show you. Now, go back to Kara, I'll be there as soon as I collect myself together." 

********** 

He did return to Kara, finding her curled up into a ball in the middle of the bed. Kneeling behind her, he rolled her backwards, lifting her shoulders into his arms. "Kara; are you in great pain? Speak to me, love."   
"No great pain; but curling up seems to ease the discomfort."   
Settling himself on the bed, Bowen nestled Kara across his lap. Tentatively, he put out one hand to touch her belly. "Please be well," he whispered. His other hand brushed back her hair so he could kiss her cheek. Emotionally, he sent a prayer into the darkness. "I would have a family this night."   
"You will," Kara assured.   
Nerys came bustling into the chamber carrying a bundle; she perched on the edge of the bed and questioned Kara. "How long has this been going on?"   
"It began soon after I came to bed."   
"What?!" Bowen said in alarm. "You should have told me."   
"It was nothing; no more than my monthly cramps."   
"You could still have woken me," he insisted.   
Kara smiled. "And see you thus for hours?" she chided gently. "Nerys warned me that there could be several hours of these milder pains and that they are well spaced."   
"True," the midwife confirmed.   
"Even so," Bowen continued, "I would have shared in your sleeplessness."   
"I knew that, so when the last two became stronger I decided to wake you."   
He kissed her forehead and tightened his hold on her. Looking across the top of her head, he addressed his mother. "How long will this take now?"   
"There's no way of knowing with a first; she could deliver at dawn, mid-day - or even sunset tomorrow."   
"My God!" he invoked, "not again!"   
"Peace, my son," and she gripped his arm. "You know I will not let her suffer; there are things I can do." Her eyes strayed to the bundle beside her.   
Bowen knew full well what that bundle contained and he gulped. He hoped there wouldn't be any need for the instruments hidden there and wondered if Kara had been acquainted with those 'things' that could be done. In a way, he hoped not. 

********** 

Dawn began to filter through the shutters. Lamps guttered and the fire spat sparks whilst three people strained to aid a child's entry into the world. None strained more than Kara. Her labour had progressed to Nerys's satisfaction and she now took charge of this particular battle.   
She had Kara sitting on the floor beside the hearth with her knees bent. Behind her, squatting and supporting her body weight, was Bowen - still shirtless. Nerys herself knelt in front of Kara watching the slow progress of her grandchild into the breathing world.   
Leaning forward, she gripped Kara's knees and pushed them apart. "I see the head," she announced.   
"Then it's nearly over?" Bowen asked.   
Eyeing her son, she told him: "Now begins the real work and in which you can help. When I tell Kara to push, reach around and hold her knees."   
"What?!" he exclaimed.   
"Just do it, Bowen!" she commanded sternly. More gently, she commanded Kara to push. "On each pain you push until I tell you to stop."   
Kara nodded.   
Her head thudded back against Bowen's chest and he felt the jolt as if it were a sword thrust. He reached around and latched onto his wife's knees, feeling her exertion as the bruise on his chest smarted once more. He lost count of the number of times he experienced the smarting and knew it was nothing compared to what Kara was going through.   
She groaned. It hurt more than she'd anticipated. She felt as if two horses were pulling her in two opposite directions at once. There was the urge to scream - she denied it. A voice kept calling to her; a voice she learned to obey and when she did the pain subsided.   
"Pant," the voice demanded, "the head is through. It's almost over."   
"Almost?" repeated Bowen. "Dear Lord, how much longer?" He received no answer.   
Kara obeyed her instruction, receiving praise from the gentle voice. She sensed someone else and murmured Bowen's name. Her hands flailed to touch him; all she found were his arms and his hands on her knees. She drifted into a daze.   
"Good," Nerys said, "now it will be easier."   
"It needs to be!" Bowen said wryly.   
"Bowen?" Kara cried, recognising his rich voice as her senses cleared.   
"I'm here, my love." He was as fatigued as from any training session. His chest hurt; his hands were numb and he had pins and needles in his legs and feet. It was then he vowed that this would be an only child. He heard Kara strain once more; heard his mother's call of encouragement and then saw something slide out between Kara's legs into the waiting hands of Nerys.   
"You have a daughter," she announced warmly.   
Bowen peered over Kara's shoulder and glimpsed the infant for the first time. A daughter; a perfect child whose tiny chest rose and fell as she took her first breaths. Then he realised he was surrounded by women! Mother; wife, now daughter and he was humbled by this new addition. Near to tears, he put out a finger to touch the tiny head and murmured: "She's beautiful," to no one in particular. And she was; from the thatch of red-gold hair, dark blue eyes set in a neat, oval face, to the perfectly formed finger nails.   
"All infants are," Nerys avowed. "Now, take her, wrap her in a shawl whilst your wife and I finish this business."   
He obeyed; leaving Kara unsupported for the moment. Swaddling the baby in what had been his own shawl, Bowen cradled her in his arms, her tiny sounds alerting him to the reality of her; he was truly in awe. He went as far as to whisper to her as he walked to the opposite side of the hearth and placed her in a large basket. "Be good," he said, "I have to get back to your mother."   
"What more is there?" Kara asked, grateful when Bowen did return to give support to her aching back.   
"The afterbirth; then you can truly rest," smiled Nerys. 

********** 

Minutes later, Nerys had made Kara comfortable and she turned her attention to the child. Gently, Bowen lifted his wife from the floor and laid her back in their bed; but he was unprepared for her reaction.   
With Nerys out of earshot, Kara pulled Bowen to sit on the bed. "I'm sorry," she apologised.   
"For what?"   
"That I could not give you a son."   
He cupped her face. "How do you know which one of us is responsible for her being a girl? She's our child; mine as well as yours," he said with conviction.   
"Perhaps next time - "   
" - no!" he said forcefully.   
"Why not?"   
"Tonight was enough for me to bear," and he rubbed at his chest, "and I know it was worse for you than I could ever comprehend - even seeing it all."   
"Oh, Bowen," stroking his face, "we're made for this."   
"Not all are," he reminded her.   
"I've been through worse."   
"I don't think so," he disagreed, shaking his head.   
"Believe me; what Einon did was worse. This was a joyous pain - that wasn't."   
For the first time, Bowen was made to wonder about the details of Kara's rape. The channel in his brow disappeared in the frown that screwed up his entire features. "Please; let's not speak of him now."   
"You never did ask me questions."   
"Did you want me to? I thought it best to let you bury it."   
"You are a bigger man - in all respects - than he was, and yet..."   
Bowen blushed. "I was careful with you," he croaked.   
"Yes; but I didn't know that you could be - that you would be. He wanted to make me his queen," she said with contempt. "As if I could have endured anymore of him than that one night!" and the tears formed. "Bowen, I wanted to give you everything I possibly could."   
He pulled her into his arms. "You have, love and I know what it cost you to do this." His fingers worked into her hair. "I adore you, do you know that?" he said with great emotion.   
"Yes. You are an exceptional man," laying her head against his heart.   
Nerys chose that moment to return, carrying the freshly washed infant in her arms. "This one needs a name," she said, laying the child in Kara's arms.   
"Let Kara decide," Bowen said with a warm smile, still cradling his wife.   
Thinking a moment, she decided. "Gwyneth."   
"A good choice," Nerys approved. "In the Old Tongue it means - "   
" - blessed," Bowen finished for her.   
"It's how I feel," Kara said directly to her husband.   
"No more than I, love; no more than I," and he kissed her lips.   
She caught the scent of him in that kiss; a combination of the herbs he always bathed in and honest sweat. Brushing an auburn tendril out of his eyes, she commented: "You seem exhausted too, Bowen."   
He chuckled; that engaging, boyish sound that had mocked her on their first meeting. "Sitting by an open fire all night can make a man sweat!" he bantered.   
"So can fear," Nerys threw into the exchange. Seeing her son squinting at her, she wagged a finger and qualified the comment. "Fear born out of concern."   
Bowen looked away from so scrutinous a gaze. "Perhaps," he allowed. "Perhaps my faith still isn't as strong as it should be."   
"If you mean the faith of your father; that was never as strong as my kind."   
"Bowen had enough faith to carry me this far," Kara praised. "I shudder to think where I would be if he hadn't come into my life."   
"Still in the goat-byre no doubt!" Nerys said a little icily.   
"Mother!" Bowen rebuked. "You have no idea what brought Kara and I together," and he rose to his feet, took his mother by the arm and virtually marched her back into the main room. 

********** 

"Why did you say that?!" Bowen challenged angrily. Will you not forget the circumstances of Kara's birth?! Have you any idea what Einon did to her?!"   
Nerys frowned. "Einon? What has that hell-spawn to do with it?"   
"He raped her then expected her to wed him!" His voice had risen to encompass all the pent up anger he had harboured since he first realised what had happened to her. One, fearful look from her to him at the waterfall had been enough. She'd never gone into details; referred to the incident in terms of Einon stealing her innocence and never - not in their year together - had it been discussed.   
"He was his father's son," Nerys said.   
"What's that suppose to mean?!" Bowen snarled.   
"Boys often emulate their fathers; you did."   
"I'm not under discussion here! What about Freyne?!"   
"He abducted Aislinn; bedded her then forced her to wed him. Being a proud woman, she refused at first; but he was cruelly persuasive. Freyne wasn't above fire and pillage to get his own way."   
"I know."   
"Mm. So the boy deflowered your little firebrand?" but she spoke with a smile not a slur on Kara. "But you still won her. Maybe there's some of me in you after all. She's a good woman, my son and I apologise for any disrespect. Class never was a consideration for you, was it?"   
He scowled. "I followed my heart; as you taught me, Madam."   
"'His heart knows only virtue'," she quoted at him. "At least you remembered the Code when it counted."   
"I tried."   
"None of us can do more than that," she allowed. "Now, I need to rest awhile and Kara should sleep."   
He nodded, watching as his mother left the chamber, then crept back into the bedchamber. Kara lay, eyes closed, the infant snuggled beside her, on his side of the bed. Smiling, he found both shirt and tunic and dressed. Perching on a stool, he pulled on his shoes, buckled his belt then stood and flung the cloak around his shoulders. Having spent all night on his knees, he went to take a much needed walk in the open air. 

********** 

It was a cold morning. Woodsmoke from the cluster of huts that had sprung up in the compound within the last year, filled the air with its own pungent odour. Bowen walked towards the new gates - closed against marauders - wanting to leave the events of the night far behind. He needed to calm his body and ease his mind.   
Sparing a moment for the call of nature, he wandered around the defensive bank until it brought him back to the mound leading up to the lodge. He shivered; he needed to bathe away these aches.   
Back inside the relative warmth of the wooden lodge, Bowen strode purposely to his own chamber. Flinging off the cloak, he crept past the screen to peer at Kara; both she and Gwyneth still slept. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the great cauldron hanging above the fire.   
"Hot water," he said to himself. Picking up a large jug standing beside the bathing tub, he began the task of filling it with water from the cauldron; it took several minutes. Dropping a cake of soap into the tub, he stripped, climbed into the welcome heat, sat down and began to lather his entire body. And that was the sight that greeted Kara as she awoke.   
Her eyes opened slowly, catching Bowen in their gaze. He had his back to her and was humming the fragment of a tune. Frowning, she recalled it as the one Draco had sung to her. Pushing up in the bed gave her a better view of her husband as he sloshed soapy water over his shoulders.   
In the firelight, his skin took on a tanned glow emphasising every scar in the reflection of the flames. One curved along the line of his left shoulder blade and his credo: 'only expose your back to a corpse' that she'd heard shouted at Einon, echoed in her head. So when had he learned it? She sighed.   
Bowen heard; slewing around in the tub and almost coming to grief. He caught her gaze. "Are you alright?" he asked in his now-familiar purr. At the same time, he groped for a towel, lurched out of the tub and slopped his way towards her. Rivulets of soap suds trickled down his torso as he moved, unconcerned about his nakedness and not attempting to conceal it.   
"You'll catch cold, Bowen," Kara remarked, a mischievous smile on her lips.   
He halted; pouting at her. "You were spying on me!" he admonished playfully   
"Not so; your loud ablutions woke me."   
"Loud?!" absent-mindedly dabbing at goosebumps on his flesh. "What was so loud about me bathing?" He took a couple more paces towards the bed.   
She giggled. "You were singing."   
Despite himself, Bowen blushed. The towel was now draped casually in front of him in a determined grip, blanching his knuckles. "Does that... offend your ears?" he said in a mocking reprimand.   
Kara's joviality evaporated; she stared hard at Bowen. "No; you do not offend me at all."   
"Good," and he turned away, drying his thighs as he did so. The action enlarged his shoulder muscles, highlighting the scar there.   
"Only expose your back to a corpse," she quoted.   
His head whipped around, sending a whirl of auburn out into the fireglow where it burned up in the reflection from it. "What?!" he rasped in shock.   
"That scar," indicating his back.   
"Oh. Ambush," he tossed at her. "Not much choice."   
"Is that when you learned the lesson yourself?"   
He nodded. "You've never noticed it before?"   
Shaking her head, she answered: "How could I? You rarely turn your back to me, especially when you are... naked." The word held meaning and emotion. "Bowen, you're... you're - beautiful," and a tear slid down her cheek.   
He dropped the towel in favour of kneeling on the bed to hold her. "Easy, love," he soothed. Trying to find humour in the moment, he said: "You are easily pleased!" Her tears were warm against his rapidly cooling skin, serving to remind him of his state. "Kara, I must dress before I freeze!"   
Gently, he disengaged himself and finished drying himself under her approving eyes. He felt a swell of pride at her scrutiny; it had been a long time since any woman had studied him so longingly. Even a year of marriage hadn't brought this level of attention from Kara before and he liked it!   
"Tell me," he requested, tossing aside the towel to reach for his shirt. "Why have you waited so long to say such things?" He pulled on the shirt and flicked his hair out from the neckline. Bending to retrieve his breeches, he faced her as he stepped into them.   
She smiled; both at his words and in admiration for his body. "Because I haven't really looked at you before."   
"Mm, I see; all cats are grey in the dark eh?" and he grinned at her as he fastened the waistband.   
"Some have sharp claws," she said sadly.   
He stopped in mid-movement, clutching the familiar black tunic in both hands. "Oh, love," he said tenderly, "I never dared be this bold if I thought you were looking."   
"So the modesty was for my sake?" her voice quavering. "I am your wife, Bowen."   
"Yes, and everything was for your sake, love," he replied reverently, going to the bed.   
"Even the child?"   
"You wanted that; who was I to deny you? I couldn't bear to disappoint you because I knew why you wanted it. Women mistakenly believe it proves their worth; that it secures the love of their husband. You needed no such proof of my love." Laying aside the tunic, he caught hold of her arms.   
"Yet you ensured that it happened," her fingers twisting the dangling lacings at his chest.   
"Because it was safe to do so."   
"Not many men would have cared about that." She let one finger slide inside the opening of the shirt to touch his skin.   
"You know me better than that," he declared, catching the probing digit, and his breath.   
"Your heart beats strongly," she said in surprise.   
"I should hope so!" he exclaimed.   
"A little too fast perhaps," and she stroked his throat with her other hand.   
Bowen halted the roaming hand and grinned mischievously at his wife. "Don't start something you know you can't finish!" he scolded. But he was even more surprised when both of her hands latched onto his shirt and pulled him down with her. "Kara, what are you doing?!" as he struggled in her arms. For answer, she kissed his mouth hungrily. He gasped then whispered: "We cannot, you know we cannot."   
"I cannot," she qualified and kissed him again.   
He got the message. Lying beside her, he took her hand, guiding it beneath the linen then pulled her into his arms and another world. 

********** 

Bowen straightened himself up just as Nerys came into the chamber; he was grateful for the placing of the screen at that moment. Winking at Kara, he made a great show of fussing over her as his mother approached. "You must keep warm, Kara," he said, hoping his recent diversion wasn't detectable.   
Nerys eyed her son and beckoned to him. He went to her. "Have a care, Bowen," she warned.   
"I don't know what - "   
" - fumble if you must but no more!" wagging a finger at him.   
He felt the fire in his cheeks. Had it been that obvious? "Mother, I -" but she cut him short again.   
"Women have needs too," she lectured.   
Bowen snorted. "As I've learned!" throwing an accusing glance at Kara. She'd started it! Yet his mother chose to chastise him for something that he'd not begun - or ended as she seemed to think. It would do no good to reply; the admission would be an even greater embarrassment, so he let it go, merely nodding to her.   
She mumbled; nodded back and shuffled out again.   
Whirling around, Bowen pointed at Kara. "See! She thinks I am some rutting beast now!"   
Kara answered calmly: "She was teasing you," then she burst out laughing.   
"What's so funny about that?!" he asked indignantly; fingers splayed on his waist, feet set apart and a scowl on his face.   
"She scolded you like a little boy caught stealing apples - and you let her!" still giggling.   
Straightening, Bowen strode back to the bed and thudded down onto it. "I promise you, Madam, that when you are able, I will wipe that silly smile off your face and have you howl a different tune!"   
"Is that a promise, Bowen?" she said sweetly.   
"Aye, lady, it is!" His mouth twitched as he tried to hold back his own laughter, failing miserably. He laughed heartily and clasped Kara to his chest. When he'd calmed, he murmured: "I love you," over and over again into her hair. 

********** 

Bowen kept his word to Kara and a new phase opened up in their relationship; one of a greater freedom. He still didn't question her about Einon's attack, he believed he could guess enough and wouldn't drag her back down that road. Instead, he focused upon the real work of rebuilding a life for the villagers who looked to him for guidance and protection.   
Gwyneth thrived; Kara bloomed and Bowen adored them both. Nerys had taken up permanent residence and another winter slipped by. Brother Gilbert kept himself busy with spiritual matters without abandoning his: 'Ballad of Bowen'; the exploits of the last dragonslayer were preserved on parchment for future generations.   
Kara discovered all the scars on her husband's body; including one across his rump that led to the tale of the female dragon who had almost emasculated him! But for his timely move, he'd have been less the man that Kara knew.   
One bright, starlit night, Bowen found Kara in the compound staring up at the heavens. He came up behind her and wrapped his cloak around her.   
"Why are you out here? It's cold tonight."   
"I wish Draco could have seen all of this - Gwyneth too."   
"I think he can," Bowen said quietly. "I need to believe that he watches us."   
"You are not to blame."   
Bowen looked intently at Kara. "In a way, I am; I failed in teaching Einon."   
"He duped you."   
"So many times I've wondered how things might have turned out if I hadn't taken him to the ridge; if I'd been later getting to him when he was hurt - "   
" - if he'd never been born," she put in. "Bowen, we cannot change what happened. It does no good to rake it over again and again. Please," and she turned to face him. "If I can learn to let go of the past, surely you have the strength to do so too."   
"You're right - but then, you always were." Curling an arm around her, Bowen led Kara back to the lodge. He was happier now than he'd been for more years than he dared think of. All he hoped for was that it would last..   
  



End file.
